Groove Tonight
by Thundercatroar
Summary: Sometimes you just have to let go and live in the moment.


Hey, Arnold was created by Craig Bartlett and all related characters and indicia are the property of Viacom Inc. No infringement on their property is implied nor should be inferred.

The high top canvas shoes commonly known as "Chuck Taylors" or "Chucks" belong to the shoe company Converse. No infringement on their property is implied, nor should be inferred.

"The Fear" is performed by Lily Allen. There are no verbatim lyrics of the song in the body of this story, but reference is made to them. No infringement on her, or her recording label is implied, nor should be inferred.

The song "Let's Groove" was written by Maurice White, Wayne Vaughn, performed by Earth Wind and Fire, and is the property of Columbia Records/Legacy Records. No infringement on their property is implied, nor should be inferred.

I do not own any of Hieronymus Bosch's artistic works, especially the ones that have Hell as subject material.

Rated T

* * *

Groove Tonight

As the loud bass line and screaming lyrics of a song performed live punched through the walls of the poorly lit high school gymnasium, her eardrums too, senior prom was the last place she wanted to be.

As she looked around in the vain hopes of distracting herself from her banal escort, the open spaces of the gymnasium had elaborately tangled streamers and balloons in the school colors of orange and green hanging from the basketball backboards and rafters above her head.

As the music got louder, she tried to slip away, but a tall red haired boy grabbed her elbow, and pulled her towards him. The people he was talking to seized the opportunity abscond unnoticed themselves, leaving her to secure her own escape. "Where are you goin' _now_?" With a chastising tone, he stated, "You're supposed to stay here and make _me _look good, not go off and screw around somewhere else!"

Being good, but not a miracle worker, Rhonda snatched her arm away from the demanding boy and snapped back a few octaves higher with justified anger decorating her well-made face, "I'm going to go get some punch, is that okay with you?"

"Bring me some back while you're at it." He dismissed as he looked for more people to enlighten.

Rhonda rolled her eyes, and any other time she wouldn't put up with being someone else's personal attendant, but she was actually grateful for any reason at all to be away from him for a little while. They had been there for _hours_, and all they had done during the duration of this thing was flit around and stalk for people to bore with the dull details of the football game victory that brought the championship back to their school.

She didn't care much for sports even though she did run track, but Rhonda had to admit that it was an accomplishment. To hear Jonathan tell it, he won the game alone, with everyone else simply being there to assist him. From the expressions of his teammates, which ranged from disinterest, or resentment, to downright hate, there was no "I" in team, and it seemed that none of them wanted Jonathan to be on theirs either.

Officially, this function was a dance, but the only time they did get out on the floor; her clumsy date irreparably scuffed _both_ of her Caprini heels when he stepped on her feet. Accidents happen, but Jonathan also had a hard time keeping his eyes out of her cleavage, and telling the glaring difference between the small of her back from her backside. Overall, Rhonda was all too happy to be away from him and his groping hands for a moment.

The worst thing about it all was that she had done this to _herself_. Rhonda _wanted_ this date with the handsome quarterback so badly she could taste it, and schemed for weeks to get him to ask her to the prom. If she were smart, she would have heeded the advice her sagacious grandmother often relayed to her about being careful of what one wished for, because they might just get it. Now, _regretfully_, Rhonda found that all her Machiavellian scheming paid off immeasurably, for now she was with the legend in his own mind, the result of such, the complete opposite of what she expected, and in the worst way possible.

From the time he had come to the house to pick her up, to that very moment; the entire evening had grown into an overlong torment of hell-worthy proportions that Hieronymus Bosch wouldn't have been able to bring himself to paint.

She could have hidden in the bathroom with the other upset girls, or cut her losses and call her parents to send someone to bring her home; but she had spent a small fortune on a dress, shoes, hair styling, and make-up.

Rhonda Wellington Lloyd was there to make an impression, and even worse, she had done so much boasting about how she had roped Jonathan into taking her to the dance, people would talk if she left now.

Therefore, like a helpless mammoth, deeply mired in the tar pits of Pleistocene La Brea with the threat of dire wolves snapping at her ears, she was hopelessly _stuck_.

Resigned to her fate, Rhonda figured that she should buck up; and endure the rest of the evening, while trying to salvage as much dignity as she could muster.

Still fuming over the whole affair, angriest with herself most of all, Ms. Lloyd arrived at the refreshment table to slop cheap, electric red punch that had been spiked with reeking liquor of unknown provenance into two tiny paper cups, not caring if she spilled any or not.

As she did, she prayed internally, beseeching whatever deity that could possibly be listening, for anything to save her from her misery date.

Taking a long drag out of the artificially fruity liquid in her cup, Rhonda was instantly repulsed by both its disgusting flavor, and mouth burning strength. She desperately wanted to spit it back into her cup, but couldn't because someone might be watching, so having no other alternative, she swallowed, and it was like ingesting a lit book of matches.

So much for the Washington State Mutual Insurance Company's no alcohol, no drug use "_Prom Promise_" contract agreement campaign that the business and Hillwood High rammed down everyone's throats for months that they were all guilt-tripped into signing.

As she coughed from the remaining fumes as she inhaled, she reflected that her classmates were such _"coinersewers_". Rhonda just _knew_ that the liquor in the tacky red ghetto punch just had to have come in one of those big, cheap plastic bottles with a built-in handle, underhandedly bought with a roll of pennies and a fake I.D. She wondered if it was Sid, Harold, or Stinky who had spiked the punch, or if all three stooges had generously conspired to make everyone's night even more "special" as Mr. Simmons still loved to say.

The resplendent fare getting better, the refreshment table was no cleaner than one used for autopsies in the city morgue. In between bowls of potato chip dust, and platters of soggy sandwiches, Rhonda's nose wrinkled as she watched a huge fly buzz the table like one of the bombers her grandfather flew during the Second World War, and then land upon a runway of stale sugar cookies.

At least the common housefly's waltz across them was interesting as it rubbed its legs together to the music, and the disgusting vermin was easily more fascinating than her date Jonathan. As she knelt down a little to watch the fly tap dance across the cookies to find a willing partner, Rhonda felt it and Jonathan had a lot in common too.

They were annoying, filthy, and had spent part of their life cycle as a maggot.

After a furtive look from side to side, the thoughtful girl artfully picked three of the cookies that she knew for sure the insects had meandered over, and threw them away so that no one there would eat them and get sick.

* * *

Hiding in the dark next to the pulled out bleachers, unknown to Rhonda, a mysterious boy watched her every move that evening.

Rhonda looked so sad; and it seemed that whenever he saw her in the halls that year, there was _always _an undercurrent of unhappiness in her eyes.

Of course, the gifted actress _pretended_ to be happy when she was around her banausic friends with the fake smile, loud boastful laughs, and practiced speech of implied superiority in the halls at school.

That was what the extravagantly wealthy were, right?

The miserable girl played her part to perfection, he could say that much, because she had the money, a kick ass car, and no limit plastic; as Lily Allen sang, Rhonda's life was _fuckin'_ fantastic.

The wise boy knew better though, and it broke his heart to see Rhonda Lloyd so chained. He knew the vast potential the girl had if she would just quit worrying about the opinions of the "in" crowd, what her parents desired, and have the courage to do what _she_ wanted for the first time in her life.

He had watched her draw in her notebooks during class, and Rhonda had genuine talent that blew him away. She had even gone as far as signing up to take an art class an elective at the first of the year, but her parents made her drop that, and add one more in keeping with admissions requirements for college.

Unfortunately, for Rhonda, her parents had already ordained she was going to go to Princeton after her conception eighteen years earlier, and that she was going to become an attorney at law, _nothing_ else. What Rhonda wanted wasn't even a consideration at that point, which he felt was a disservice to her, and extremely selfish of the people who supposedly gave her birth so that she could live.

The kind boy wished there was a way he could help Ms. Lloyd realize what she _should_ be doing with her life, but he downheartedly pondered that people like her, at best, never bothered to notice people like him, and at worst, had no use for them either.

Sometimes you have to figure out what _you_ want in life, and free _yourself _with no help, too.

Prisons, more often or not, were of the recipient's own making, and until Rhonda was willing to take those hard but necessary steps to freedom, she would always be unhappy.

He could empathize with her in a way, for he was sad a lot too.

It had been three months since he had lost his parents in the fire that ripped through the home he had known since he was a child. If he hadn't been given reprieve from a fiery death by the brave soul known as Monkeyman, he would be lying in Hillwood Cemetery next to his poor parents. He wasn't unscathed however, and as he raised his hand to touch his scarred, still healing face, at least he was alive.

Technically speaking.

Hence, instead of being out on the floor with his childhood friends having fun for what might be the last time with them, he sat in a corner; vicariously living through them and other kids on the cusp of adulthood feeling dead.

Arnold Shortman was dancing with Lila Sawyer; while his girlfriend, cheerleader Ashley Carter, tried desperately not to look like she was burning an ever so gaping black hole in Lila's back with her evil beady, jealous little eyes.

What Arnold saw in his hateful girlfriend, the observant boy had absolutely no idea. She was pretty no doubt, but the beauty faded when she opened her abrasive demanding mouth. He supposed that Arnold tried to see only the good in people that he neglected to notice that there was also bad in them that he needed to protect himself from too.

Gerald Johannsen was with his small, omnipresent better half, Phoebe Heyerdahl. Both of them were swaying together out of sync with the music looking attached at the hips just like every other day he saw them in the halls at school. The couple was so inseparable in fact; people had jokingly called them "_Geroebe"_ since their junior year at school.

The most changed kid he knew was onstage performing the wild music the kids were dancing to. Brainy, whose real name was Douglas Brian Dempsey, was the founder and front man of the locally successful garage band called, "SmashNose" which was a funk, soul, and rock fusion group.

Brainy, and his talented friends; Sid, Park, Siobhan Andrews, and Torvald had started playing and singing together their sophomore year of high school honing their talents, and their hard work paid off.

The group made a good bit of money playing parties and banquets for clients in town. The five of them were sending demo tapes of their performances to several companies in the music industry, and they already had some interested nibbles from some major record labels for signing.

It was just so odd to the young man watching, to see the once quiet, skinny, and asthmatic boy that Helga Pataki used to punch in the nose regularly, strumming a bass guitar shirtless, muscular, and shockingly vocal.

As he sat alone lost in his thoughts, he even wondered how _she_ was doing wherever in the world she was.

Before Helga Pataki left for South Dakota with her mother in the middle of the eighth grade after her father passed away, he asked her what the "G" in her middle name stood for when she referred to herself in the third person.

It had to have been the longest conversation he had ever had with the girl in his entire life, but considering that, it would be his last one with her probably; so felt he might as well make it count, and satisfy his curiosity.

Helga said that she would tell him if he would keep it a secret, as it was the last bit of mystique that she would have left when she was gone from Hillwood City.

He promised to keep that part of her identity secret, so in confidence Helga Pataki confessed to him that her middle name was _Geraldine_.

No better name for a born fighter, the charmer told the spear ruler that it was a pretty name for a beautiful girl.

He felt bad when the shocked looking girl gazed at him as if she was stricken; with her dazzling blue eyes glazing with what he was sure were the beginnings of tears.

He wondered why she was upset, and in that moment, the frightened boy didn't know if Helga Geraldine was going to punch him in the face, or kick him somewhere a little more interesting, and painful for his first attempt at flirting with girl.

Before he could apologize for perhaps hurting her feelings, Miss Pataki smiled in a way that looked almost grateful, placed her hands on either side of his face, closed her eyes, and drew him in for a short, but gentle kiss on the lips.

He _had_ kissed other girls before; but they were in the order of his mother, grandmother, and an aunt, but Helga Pataki had given him his first official_ "girl kiss"_, and he would always cherish the memory of it.

He genuinely hoped that wherever Helga was that night, she was happy, and dancing with someone worthy of her sweet kisses too.

Lastly, on a more entertaining note, kids were giving Sheena and Eugene an extra wide berth while they were performing some sort of pre-choreographed eclectic jig off to themselves. Eugene and she had thought the complicated, but wild moves up for the dance club, but never used them in a school function before that night.

His friends tried really hard, but the wild boogie they were executing wound up making both of them look like chickens thrashing around with their heads bitten off as they shook and jittered in front of each other.

At least they looked happy and any other time he would have probably joined in with them, he _was_ weird enough to, but even the sight of the latter couple could not cheer him.

Soon the boy's mind dwelled in the dark realm of the serious again.

Not only was his mind occupied by the ever-present loss of his parents, but the worriment of his upcoming birthday as well. He would be eighteen in less than a month, his worthless uncle had already told him to start packing his bags, and to get the hell out of his sight.

His parents foolishly made his uncle his guardian and given him power of attorney over their estate. Instead of taking care of him, giving him a good home, or at least providing for his rudimentary needs, the dishonest man squandered every dime his parents had saved, that he was supposed to get when he turned eighteen.

That was bad enough, but added to theft, his guardian abused him by speaking to him like garbage, and using him as a punching bag.

The only reason why he was there at the dance at all to begin with was to get away from his Uncle Gray's abusive mouth, and painfully bony knuckles.

Sometimes it got so bad that he didn't go home for days at a time, opting to sleep in Mighty Pete when it was warm enough, getting up in the mornings, and just going to school from there.

The courageous man who saved his life, along with his generous aunt and uncle, would give him a place to stay when it was cold, feed him when he was starving, and when could take no more at his lovely warm "_home_".

Andy's family had even gone as far as to offer to let him live with them for good when they found out he was living in a tree house part of the time, but he wouldn't dream of taking them up on their generous offer. Those kind people had little enough to go around as it was, and taking care of a kid who wasn't even their responsibility and almost a legal adult to begin with was too much to ask of anyone.

Despite his situation, he still made excellent marks, and had thankfully earned a grant to help with his tuition and dorm room in the fall. Wisely, he had also managed to save _some_ money from his hard work and hide it from his uncle to help get him started in his new life, but he knew he'd have to get more.

He had a job at a local grocery store as a bagger that he liked, but knew that he was going to have to quit that one, and get a better paying job if he were to start his first year at State and be able to live.

As he watched the student body sway in time with music dressed to the nines in satin dresses and pressed tuxedos, he looked down at himself and there was no comparison between him and them.

He looked practically _regal_ in his ripped, faded blue jeans, dirty, black high top Chucks, and a tee shirt with a hole in it featuring the symbol from a cartoon emblazoned on it.

Instead of dancing, there he sat trying to plot out his next move as music pulsed in his ears, and his stomach rumbled, but at least there was food there.

Since he didn't have any money to spare, and he sure as hell wasn't going to go home _that_ night, he thought he'd better try to fill himself up on something while there was some food still left.

The boy got up and made his way to the refreshment table through an undulating maze of thrashing kids and neglectful chaperons, and when he got there, the beautiful girl was still there grimacing.

When he picked up a cup, and started to pour himself a drink, he received a bit of unexpected, but friendly advice. "I wouldn't drink much of that if I were you."

The boy turned to the gorgeous young woman and asked, "Why, what's wrong with it?"

Rhonda responded, "It smells like a distillery."

The boy took a testing sniff of the insidious looking red liquid and with a wrinkled nose; he acknowledged that she was absolutely right. "It _does_ seem a little _strong_." The boy loudly confessed.

The girl circled her index finger around the half-filled bowl, and continued with a bellowing shout over the din, "The fire marshal should put _no smoking_ placards around the punchbowl, 'cause it's a hazard."

The boy genuinely laughed for the first time in weeks.

Rhonda Lloyd could be funny, who would have ever thought?

"Are you having a good time tonight?" The boy asked in a loud voice already knowing the response.

"Yes," The boy watched Rhonda's downcast eyes tell the truth, then listened to her smiling lips simultaneously lie and try to convince herself, "I'm having a wonderful time! I'm just getting some punch for myself and date."

The boy honestly replied in the same volume she had used, "_He_ should be getting _you_ punch."

Rhonda had to agree, but there was not a polite, chivalrous bone in Jonathan's entire body, and she wondered what sort of fee she would have to pay later for the honor of his company when she was alone with the boorish boy in his father's Jaguar.

If his greedy handed actions in public were any indication of the treatment she'd get when alone with him, she was sure that she'd feel more like a fumbled football, rather than a lady.

Rhonda looked at the boy she had known for a good long while, and while she didn't have any feelings of distaste for him in particular, they didn't run in the same circles, so he was out of the loop. Despite that social handicap though, Rhonda's heart did go out to him, as life had been hard for him as of late.

She wouldn't have wished for anything like he had endured that year to happen to _anyone_.

As she looked upwards into his eyes, Rhonda could clearly see the tragedy that he had survived had a negative effect not only physically, but also psychologically on him as well.

Soon her eyes found the scar on his face again, but tried desperately not to focus on it, Rhonda _was_ polite enough for that, despite the fact that it was difficult to do. Soon the occupied girl was training her eyes elsewhere so as not to stare.

The live music stopped playing and the couple could speak normally, and Rhonda asked the boy while looking at the decorations trailing from the ceiling, "Are _you_ having a good time tonight?"

The boy replied with a specially crafted lie of his own, trying not to sound bitter, "A regular ball."

He pretended not to notice the girl too as he held a cup of punch he had no intention of drinking, but found himself taking in as well as he could through his peripheral vision, the slender, graceful swan that stood next to him in a black, off the shoulder gown.

As the two stood at the table in uncomfortable silence contemplating each other without making eye contact, the recording of popular party standard began to play. As the robotic sounding voice suggested to the dancers to boogie down, Rhonda asked, "So, who are you here with?"

The boy responded, "I'm flying solo tonight."

What transpired next was out of the ordinary.

A spontaneous action, it sprang out of Rhonda despite the years of conditioned judgmental, cold behavior she had trained herself to abide by, and policed by people considered her peers.

In hindsight, what Rhonda did could be attributed to the boredom she felt, her guilty pleasure of shocking people, a moment of empathetic kindness for one whom fate had kicked much too hard as of late, or even an act of God.

No matter the circumstance, Rhonda Wellington Lloyd heard herself burst out with a loud invitation, "Well, c'mon then!" She grabbed the surprised boy's hand, in turn making him drop his full cup of liquor laced punch on the lacquered hardwood floor while she forcefully pulled him behind her. "Let's groove!"

As he felt what must have been everyone's eyes in the gymnasium grope them with perverse interest, the boy asked worriedly, "_What_ are you _doing, _Rhonda?"

Stronger than she looked, Rhonda dragged him towards the middle of the gymnasium floor and turning with a grin, she cheerfully explained, "Well, you have to have at least _one _dance tonight," She finished with a joking tone that was uncharacteristically impish, "Even if it_ is_ with _me_!"

The bottom of Rhonda's gown flared while she spun and danced in tune with the beat of the song, and the boy watched in shock while standing ramrod straight in front of her, "I _can't_ dance, Miss Lloyd!"

Rhonda spun on her heels, and stomped towards him, "You're completely full of crap, too!" The boy's eyes widened as the girl stepped closer, and looked up at him with squinted eyes, "I've _seen _your moves on top of the bus ramp roof after school!" She stepped closer, pulled him down by his shirt, and whispered, "I've also witnessed those pole dances you do on the cart return at J-Mart too."

The boy blushed, thinking that no one had seen his novice attempts at free running. Rubbing the back of his neck, he explained, "Its called parkour, Miss Lloyd."

"It _still_ looks like something you can get a dollar in your underwear for." His eyes widened at the suggestion as Rhonda spat out while pointing behind herself with her thumb. "I _know_ you can dance, so get out here and _move_ your _ass_!"

He looked into the girl's fearsome eyes, and having no other choice, obeyed. At first, it was out of concern for his well-being, but he took the song's advice about sharing the spice of life, and ignored the people gawking at them to throw all his problems from his mind for a moment.

The happier boy smiled, took one of the girl's hands into his, and they moved their feet together pulling towards each other then fainting away.

_Let this groove light up a fuse, it's alright, alright..._

Soon, he loosened even more, really got into it, and twirled the graceful swan under his arm, pulling her towards his embrace; only to release her before his body touched hers.

_Gotta' let you know girl, you're looking good, you're out of sight, and alright..._

And Rhonda did! The boy gazed into the gorgeous, big brown eyes of his dreams, and dear God in heaven he was with an angel because Rhonda was so lovely. It was inevitable that he blushed when she smiled back at him, took his hands in hers, and sang the lyrics to the song while she moved in front of him.

_Just move yourself, and glide like a 747..._

The two whirled in a circle, but suddenly the deft boy whipped her around to the side by one arm and pulled her back, politely placing his hand lightly on the small of her back before repeating the prior action in the opposite direction.

The kids dancing around the unlikely couple stopped moving themselves, and made a large circle around the couple watching in awe as they continued to move skillfully across the space made by their classmates.

As the boy danced with the girl, he even found the courage to pretend that the graceful beauty in front of him was his date.

He knew that that would never happen in reality, simply hoping such would be a practice in futility, but this one time just once, he lived in the moment, and pretended that Rhonda _was_ his girl for just one shining, much too brief time.

_What you found is happiness now..._

He had!

He couldn't believe that he was dancing, and it was with the wonderful Rhonda Lloyd! What was even more surprising to him was that she was _**good**_ at it too! All through the school year while he secretly spied over her shoulder, Rhonda continually surprised him with her hidden talents, and he couldn't help but wonder what else she could do that no one else knew about.

As their dance turned into a personal contest, and they tried to top each other on moves, the boy knew that Rhonda was wasted on the un-appreciative, stupid Neanderhole that she was on the arm of that night.

_You will find peace of mind on the floor, take a little time, come and see, you and me, make a little sign, I'll be there after awhile, if you want my love..._

When Rhonda briefly hooked her leg around his, clenched his hand into her fist, and leaned back with a laugh, all bets were officially off, and he smiled wickedly at Ms. Lloyd as he got a bold idea.

Rhonda looked more than a little worried at his expression, but as he studied it he had to think, _'well why the hell not_'?

_This_ was a once in a lifetime opportunity, sometimes God tossed people a mulligan for the pure hell of it, and he for one wasn't going to fritter it away!

Besides, Rhonda Lloyd couldn't possibly hope to top _this_ move!

_We can boogie on down, down, boogie on down..._

With no warning, the boy tipped Rhonda down into the lowest dip she had ever been in, in her life.

For a brief moment, Rhonda felt fear as the wind whistled past by her ears, and she wondered if perhaps the boy who held her might drop her, but he stopped her descent gently, with only her long raven hair touching the floor. Forced to place her hands on the boy's shoulders to help support herself, Rhonda found that they were deceptively strong, and well muscled.

The crowd of kids cheered and clapped in unison with the beat of the music and the movements of the couple's feet as the song ended.

_Let's groove tonight! Share the spice of life, baby slice it right, we gonna' groove tonight... _

The music ended and the entire gymnasium was in an uproar cheering, hooting, and enthusiastically patting the girl and boy on the back. Mostly dismissed, and never being treated with such acceptance by his fellows before, he couldn't help but have a wide grin on his face that almost exposed every one of his white teeth.

In turn, Rhonda pointed at the boy, waved her hands above her head in a "_come on give it up_" motion, and she actuallyclapped for _him _too.

As the crowd parted when another song started to play, the boy worked up his courage and walked over to his partner. "You really danced so well, Rhonda!" Out of breath he panted, "I can't believe that you did that!" The boy was visibly excited as he questioned her, "Where in the world did you learn to move like that?" With exuberance, he wondered, "Who taught you, or did you teach yourself?"

No one ever complimented on her dancing skills before, so Rhonda blushed at the praise. "My grandmother taught me how when I was little, and then she enrolled me in classes when I was old enough." With a fond smile, she added, "She always told me that learning how to dance would help me find my soul mate, because that's how she met my grandfather." Rhonda instantly thought of Jonathan when she added, "Gramma' also told me to never have anything to do with a man who can't dance, because a guy without rhythm isn't any fun." When she said it, she abashedly fiddled with the opalescent pearl necklace around her neck as she looked at the boy in front of her.

If he didn't know any better, he could swear that the usually reserved Miss Lloyd just might be blushing, and by then the boy was blushing too, because he _really_ wanted to be Rhonda's soul mate.

She was looking down and to the side still toying with her necklace as the boy truthfully declared, "That's a lovely strand of pearls, Rhonda." He took a step closer to her, looked down into her eyes, and when Rhonda's met his, she noticed his sweet eyes squinted when he smiled.

It was kind of cute, maybe, she thought as she brought herself back to reality.

Rhonda gushed, finding it difficult to speak for some reason. "Well, thank you, I, it belonged to her, I mean my grandmother." Rhonda looked downwards, embarrassed because she misspoke, and explained with a quieter voice, "She left it to me when she passed last year." With a warmhearted smile that relieved the boy, Rhonda continued fondly, "When I was a little girl, my Gramma' would let me play with this strand, even though it was a bit too expensive to be a plaything."

Rhonda's eyes fell as she reminisced in a heartfelt manner, "She was always so kind to me, and I really miss her."

The boy nodded, and then empathetically looked down and away to afford Rhonda an opportunity to wipe the beginnings of a tear away unseen. When he felt it safe, he focused on her again, "Nicole Descroix Lloyd. She was a member of the Hillwood Garden Society; and her roses dominated growing contests every year she entered them until she was unable to garden." Noticing the expression on Rhonda's face, the respectful boy stopped short before she became upset again. "I know you're bound to miss someone so special." The boy concluded tactfully, gently taking Rhonda's soft hand in the hopes of comforting her. "She truly was a nice lady, and I am really sorry that you've lost her."

Rhonda looked stricken, "How did you know all of that?" Nevertheless, before she could question in detail about the boy's more than passing knowledge of her loss, and one of the facets of her grandmother's many interests, Rhonda's date rudely interrupted them.

"Where have you been?" Jonathan tromped intrusively towards the conversing couple and forcefully asked, "Are you ready to go yet? It's so damn boring here it's freakin' pathetic!" The hateful boy looked at the other one up and down in harsh judgment as he cruelly joked, "Nice clothes, Scarface, where did you get 'em?" With a sarcastic smile, he ended, "The dumpster out back?"

Then the despicable boy turned to Rhonda as her jaw set, and she glared at him. "I'll be waiting over there when you're done with your charity case." Jonathan walked away and leaned his back against a wall, all the while glaring at the boy Rhonda was talking to, and squirting something into his mouth.

When Rhonda looked at her dance partner, he seemed so stricken as she tried to begin an apology. "I-I'm so," The hurt boy looked down into her remorseful eyes, but Rhonda's apology stuck in her throat and refused to budge.

There was no point in continuing it. How in the world could you apologize for something like that?

Forgetting where she was, Rhonda announced, "I have to go." As she lowered her eyes, and turned to leave, she suddenly stopped and turned. Crooking her head with a genuine smile, she confessed, "I really did enjoy dancing with you tonight."

Knowing he would never have this opportunity again, the brave boy stepped forward, gently grasped Rhonda's hand, and then placed a gentle, gallant kiss on the back of it. "I shall never _ever _forget this evening as long as I live, Miss Lloyd, thank you."

Rhonda walked towards her mean spirited date with her head turned over her shoulder looking at the boy with an undefined feeling.

Jonathan pushed himself off his back against the wall, and hooked his arm in hers possessively. While tugging her away forcefully, he asked Rhonda with irritation in his voice, "Who was _that _freakin' loser?"

Rhonda looked over her shoulder at her dance partner a final time, and his heart nearly stopped.

Maybe Rhonda realized that she didn't have to leave with her date, that she could be with _him. _He saw deliberation in her eyes, but ultimately, instead of the epiphany he craved, Rhonda quietly dismissed him, "He's just a boy I used to know when I was a little kid."

With that, the hurt boy looked down at the floor, and felt more alone in the world than he ever did before.


End file.
